Concerns
by WMisc
Summary: The concerns of a parent, a friend, and of the subjects of the concerns in person. One-shot. Percabeth.


___Fluff. Percy/Annabeth. This one-shot is not based off anything in particular, it's just fluffy._

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**Concerns**

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Sally Jackson was concerned.

Of course, it was in her nature to be concerned. Even before she'd become a mother and had even more things to be concerned about, she had been concerned. For life, for humanity, for the supernatural. She was just a concerned person.

But she had more reason to be concerned now. And it was of something that most mothers of sons and perhaps daughters had to go through. It was the concern of a parent, of a mother especially, about their child's welfare.

She saw it before her son noticed it, she saw it in the unconscious gestures he made, the immediate smiles that came to his face that hadn't been there before. It was a lightness in his demeanor, the laughter that came out of his mouth that definitely had no reason to be there. He'd laughed at his friends' _funerals_. Certainly not appropriate to the situation, but then again, that was her son.

Sally was concerned. But she was used to that.

She could almost describe her concerns in various ways. To put it in the simplest means possible, there were good concerns, bad concerns, and neutral concerns.

This concern of hers in particular was a good concern. Full of joy, excitement, foreboding, and the inevitable anxiety.

Her son reminded her of his father, reminded her so much. It left a bittersweet taste in her mouth whenever she thought about Pos- but she wouldn't allow herself to say his name. Only in her mind. And even there, only when necessary.

So she was concerned. But she was okay with it.

After all, it was just a way of life.

* * *

Frederick Chase was concerned.

He wasn't used to being concerned. His lifestyle was rather laidback–after all, why rush life?–and he usually let his wife and his two youngest children run the household.

But sometimes, that just wasn't an option. Sometimes, he had no choice but to _be_ concerned.

So. He was concerned. It wasn't his choice to be concerned about it either.

He had no idea what he was concerned about. He'd met the boy more than a couple times, and he seemed to be quite intelligible and able. A nice young man. Percy would hold his own quite well.

So why was he still concerned? Logically, there was nothing that should strike him as worrisome. Everything was fine, perfectly fine.

Frederick Chase was concerned. But about what, he had no clue of.

He decided to let life run its course and retreated back to his quiet (or not so) life.

* * *

Poseidon was concerned.

Okay, well, he was a _god_. A pretty major god too, seeing as he was entitled to the seas and had the ability to create earthquakes whenever he felt like it.

He had more than that, of course, but everything wouldn't exactly fit in his title. The "sea and earthquake god" was good enough for him, thank you very much.

But back on track. The lord of the sea (and earthquakes) was concerned.

He was concerned about many things. But this time, he was unsure about his concerns.

His son. His son was…

His son was blind.

How could he not see it? Even he, his own father saw it before he did. And that, in itself, was remarkable. Extraordinary.

It was quite clear. The boy was simply… unobservant. That was all.

He wasn't all that concerned about the girl–or her mother. The girl was fine, in fact–unexpected, yet perfect… while the mother could be handled. After all, weren't women supposed to be sentimental about these matters?

It wasn't like he knew. It wasn't like he cared for whatever the other divinity thought about this.

Poseidon was concerned.

But then again, it was just a concern for his son's unawareness.

* * *

Athena was concerned.

Among many things the war goddess could be concerned about, she spent most of her waking hours worrying about this one concern. It wasn't the most important in terms of what was best for the general population – but it just wouldn't go away. The concern sat there, in her mind, lurking on the edges of her thoughts, distracting her when distraction wouldn't do.

Her daughter… one of many daughters, but this one was her favorite.

She had thought that the girl had the most sense, the most potential to become something great.

And yet, somehow, she had managed to fall into Aphrodite's game.

Another win for the love goddess. Another loss for her.

Of course, Athena was concerned. She was concerned about a child of hers beyond reason, beyond logic.

And logic was all she had known. It was her title, her job, her _life_.

She felt empty without that logic. Because she knew that her hatred for that _boy_ was completely unjustified. But still she hated, and so her logic fled from her.

She was worried. Anxious. Abandoned by reason.

Athena was concerned. Her logic had never failed her before this time.

Hate can force things to happen to a person that they never expected to happen.

Hate burns cold.

* * *

Grover was concerned.

With the war having ended, there weren't quite as many things for him to worry about. Just a couple key things that included cleaning up the camp, not antagonizing Juniper for saying something provokingly stupid, and eating as many aluminum cans as he could before the other satyrs noticed his secret stash of them.

All that, added along to being concerned about his two best friends.

They were so blind.

He watched them sit on the beach together, talking quietly. He saw their embarrassed, fleeting glances at each other, their wary greetings, their skittish behaviors around the other. He noticed this all and still left with the same thought: _They are so blind._

He was concerned. For both of them.

If only they could get to the bottom of the whole matter and just say it straight out. It was obvious; everybody knew what they were trying to say to each other without words.

It was actually sort of funny, how two people could be so _blind_ to each other and the world around them. Because seeing one (or both) of your best friends crash into a tree in a moment of inattention _is_ laugh-worthy.

Grover was concerned.

When would they get past their blindness and move on?

* * *

Percy was concerned.

…Okay, well, he had plenty of reasons to be concerned. But they all boiled down to the same thing, in the end.

When he had been little, his mother had filled his head with romantic notions. As he matured, he dismissed these, assuming they were a waste of time.

But now, they came back in full force, interrupting his thoughts constantly without end.

And now, he wondered if they could be true.

He'd thought about what his dream girl would be, once or twice. He'd thought at the time that it would be someone shy, quiet, and of average intellect. Because really, who can predict the future?

Keep that as a rhetorical question.

He was concerned. For himself, his thoughts, and for her.

She was always in his mind. When he sang any part of any song, it reminded him of her, no matter what he was singing about. She was just always there, smiling dazzlingly, elusively, escaping from him when he tried to rehearse his words to the imaginary picture of her in his mind.

But he wasn't sure he wanted her out of there. Even her imaginary presence was uplifting.

Smiles came naturally to his face now, as well as laughter. It just bubbled out of him whenever suited itself.

Percy was concerned.

Concerns for the future are usually never that optimistic, but in his case, they were.

* * *

Annabeth was concerned.

She had used to think of nothing else but her ideas, knowledge, architecture… the list could go on and on.

But that list had certainly not included a word about love on it.

How strange that she could say the word so clearly, so easily in her mind, but it came out stumbling and impossible to distinguish out loud.

She was sure of it, too. And when she looked at his face, in his eyes, she saw the same thing in them too–or maybe that was just her wishful thinking.

But no. She was sure of it. So sure, so certain.

Annabeth knew that people thought they were blind to each other's feelings. She certainly was not.

And neither was he.

She was concerned. Happy concerns, however, concerns for a future that might very well happen.

She wasn't quite as blind as people thought she was. And he was most likely aware of this as well.

She might smile at him later, and while people would think it was an ignorant, innocent smile, he would know the smile for what it really was.

Annabeth wasn't concerned anymore.

Love found its way into her smile.

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_Disclaimer: _I do not own, nor will I ever.

_A bit of fluff that was enjoyable to write, and hopefully to read._


End file.
